All sympathy not consistent with acknowledged virtue is but disguised selfishness.
That gracious thing, made up of tears and light.
Memory, bosom-spring of joy.
Love is flower like; Friendship is like a sheltering tree.
To doubt has more of faith ... than that blank negation of all such thoughts and feelings which is the lot of the herd of church-and-meeting trotters.
Sir, I admit your general rule, That every poet is a fool, But you yourself may serve to show it, That every fool is not a poet.